


six degrees of separation.

by angekketet



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Dubious Consent, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, References to Drugs, Rhyme Sex, Self-Hatred, Songfic, holy shit that's actually a tag i'm laughing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:26:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angekketet/pseuds/angekketet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was it your fault? You don’t really know. You have a temper, but so does Noiz, and it wasn’t like your relationship wasn’t built on your fighting and heated arguments anyway. That’s the way it had worked for months. There was a fight over something, probably pointless, then you fucked. The next day it all started over again. Eventually he had began staying the night, and you didn’t really mind. Through all of that, you’d fallen in love with the little shit. Maybe that was the biggest mistake you’d made in the whole situation. </p>
<p>Noiz didn’t know how to be loved.</p>
<p>You finish your cigarette and step back inside, your dark and empty apartment reminding you just how alone you really are. You have to chuckle at that thought. Wasn’t he the lonely one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	six degrees of separation.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owba/gifts).



> loosely inspired by six degrees of separation by the script.  
> it's mostly used to just divide things and title places where POV was swapped yes.  
> this fic was fuCKiNG paInfuL.  
> written for owba for valentines day bc that's how i roll apparently.

**I. First, you think the worst is a broken heart.**

You inhale, taking a deep drag off your cigarette and let it swirl around your lungs a bit before you exhale, the white smoke lingering about you for just a moment before it’s whisked away with a gust of wind. Your chest aches unpleasantly, the tattoos on your back tingling with an unpleasant reminder of your past. You reach behind you, take your mother’s hairpin out of your ponytail and let your hair down, as if covering the ink with another layer of something, _anything_ , even your hair, will help you get away from your mistakes.

  
But it won’t. And you can’t. And you’re thinking about that, as you continue to smoke and stand out in the cold. You’re alone. He left yesterday.  
  
Was it your fault? You don’t really know. You have a temper, but so does Noiz, and it wasn’t like your relationship wasn’t built on your fighting and heated arguments anyway. That’s the way it had worked for months. There was a fight over something, probably pointless, then you fucked. The next day it all started over again. Eventually he had began staying the night, and you didn’t really mind. Through all of that, you’d fallen in love with the little shit. Maybe that was the biggest mistake you’d made in the whole situation.   
  
Noiz didn’t know how to be loved.  
  
You finish your cigarette and step back inside, your dark and empty apartment reminding you just how alone you really are. You have to chuckle at that thought. Wasn’t he the lonely one?

 

**II. What's gonna kill you is the second part.**  
  
You wake up in your own apartment for the first time in you don’t know how long.  
  
You sit up, your muscles tense with a stiffness that only you know. You have a condition called CIPA, or cognitive insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis, which makes it impossible for you to feel pain or sweat. You’ve had it forever and you’re feeling it now, your body feeling rigid like you’re a mannequin or something. It’s then that you realize that something is off and you can’t identify it. You’re not the best with people because you were locked in a fucking room as a child, and you don’t know if this _twinge_ in your gut is due to your condition or your deprivation from human interaction. You think that may be experiencing depression, because _normal_ people ache and sleep a lot when they’re depressed. It’s kind of weird actually, because you can’t ache and you hate to sleep. You never understood the basics of human emotions, anyone else’s, but _especially_ your own. How could you, though? You had to know pain to know what getting over it was like. You had to feel it yourself to understand why other human beings cried. You thought you’d never understand what heartbreak was and the sensation it caused.   
  
But you were wrong.  
  
You finally stand, switch on your Coil and you can’t help scrolling through everything to see if maybe he called to check on you. You see nothing, though. You aren’t all that surprised. People had a way of letting you down, and you’d lived life without someone for so long, you figure you can adjust back to it pretty quickly.  
  
But you can’t change whatever tingles in your gut, something unexplainably foreign to you, and it continues to grow until it settles somewhere in your chest. You turn to your Allmate, ask for a scan of your body to make sure everything is okay. Usagimodoki will know. No one else could know you better, after all. You were wrong to think anyone could.  
  
The only diagnosis you get is: sadness.  
  


 

**III. And the third, is when your world splits down the middle.**

You down your third cup of sake before noon. You aren’t opening up shop today, you decide. You wouldn’t want to worry those women with your mood, and even if you entertain the idea of taking one of them up to your bed and forgetting about what that kid had said the night before for just a little while. Either way, you know it wouldn’t be the same, and you know you’d just lay there afterwards with a stranger on your chest wondering why the hell you did what you did. 

  
You think maybe you’ve lost your touch. You can’t remember how long it’s been since you’ve slept with a woman, regardless of what Noiz or anyone else thought. You find it ironic you’re considering it all now. Maybe it was a way you escaped. You didn’t really know yourself, honestly.  
  
You make your way to the kitchen and pour yourself some more sake. You don’t want to see anyone really, but all you see is _him_ , in every little thing that you do. It’s only been a day, you remind yourself. This is to be expected.  
  
You turn and try to ignore that dent in the drywall, something that brat gave you on the very first night he stayed over. You sigh heavily, _heartbreak_ suddenly crashing over you harder than he had ever hit you. It’s funny that he’s still hurting you even though he’s gone,  and you take a drink with that thought in mind.  
  
Maybe you _will_ open up shop, just for spite. Maybe you will carry on your life like normal. No one would know.  
  
You turn away from the hole in the wall and ignore the hole in your heart. You then make the call and open up shop for the day. About three clients in, you take in a younger woman with striking green eyes. Though it disgusts you, you don’t take in anyone else. You take her upstairs, slip off her gown and press her into the mattress. You fondle her every curve and crevice while watching those eyes flutter, reminding you of what you’ve lost.    
  
Life goes on that way, and though it’s empty, it is still fulfilling enough to keep your past away, just like it always had been. Maybe that was the issue all along.

 

**IV. And fourth, you're gonna think that you fixed yourself.**

You don’t really know what day it is, or what day everything happened. You just know that it’s been a while, long enough that whatever feeling you have should have passed. Usagimodoki insists that you’re healthy, insists that you’re okay. It squeaks that maybe you’re depressed. Maybe you are, but you don’t get it. You don’t _ever_ get it.

  
You carry on.  
  
You go back to Rhyming. It’s a little bit different now, since Usui is gone and all. You can’t really sell information regarding her appearance if she isn’t there, but you find that you have quite a bit of interest built and money still isn’t an issue for you. Now though, you’re considering leaving Midorijima. There’s really nothing for you here anymore, and maybe Germany would be a good place to go back home to and start over. You don’t know why you feel that way. Maybe you’re just that lonely now. You can’t shake it this time.  
  
You get a new piercing for nostalgia, two dermals in each hipbone. You don’t know why you did it, you just know that you wanted to, maybe a change, maybe reminiscent of your other days alone, of Rhyme and the life before you knew Koujaku and Aoba. It still doesn’t hurt as you feel a needle pierce your skin, watch as blood dribbles down your toward your belly-button. You still don’t feel anything more than a pressure as something breaks the emptiness of your flesh. Maybe it scrapes the bone. Even if it did, you just don’t know.   
  
Needles may poke and prod, but they were nothing compared to the ache within your chest.  It was what you were trying to escape the entire time. But, were you really? It was the realest, most honest, most _human_ thing you had ever felt, and it was liberating.  
  
In the sickest way possible, you aren’t surprised that you’re alone, and you don’t take up the initiative to call Koujaku if he won’t call you. You’re stubborn like that, and you don’t speak to anyone. You don’t reach out. You decide maybe you _like it_ , the way that it hurts in a way that you can understand and experience, and the way you’ve fallen into old habits. Isolation is so familiar to you. You find security by your lonesome.  
  
Maybe you can handle it.   
  
You’ve done it before.  
  
Rhyme is a bit of a skanky game. You don’t really mind the feel of hands on you when you don’t know their warmth, only roughness. You’re always on a bit of a high after a match, excited by the way you can make believe pain exists inside your body somewhere, that you’re _normal_ , completely ordinary in every way. You’re feeling particularly buzzed this time, and you wonder if it’s because you haven’t played in so long. Either way, you let them touch you the way you used to. They’re pissed they got beat by a kid and think you deserve punishment, think you’ve cheated. You didn’t cheat at Rhyme. You cheated at genetics, and you’d always deserved punishment for it.  
  
You’re suddenly shoved against a wall, a small smile on your face as you feel your skin scrape against brick. You’ve done this many times. You can’t see the man behind you, only feel him tear away your pants and also any memory you may of had of anyone else before this very moment. You feel a stretch that probably would have been uncomfortable to anyone else as he presses inside of you, and you don’t really know what you’re expecting. It’s dry, you realize, but you’re okay with it. You haven’t had it dry in months you think, but you can’t remember the reason why. You just enjoy it, feel the way it nearly destroys the threshold of your condition and his cock deep inside of you. You shudder suddenly, your fingernails scraping at the wall.  
  
“M-More,” you mutter into the brick.  
  
“Fuck, you’re such a _slut_ ,” he answers, and your cock twitches in appreciation.   
  
There’s a thousand other things you’d rather be called, but you can manage this. It’s all you feel, and you actually _feel_ it, and that’s enough for you.

 

**V. Fifth, you see them out with someone else.**  
  
You look to the calendar. It’s been about a month and a half, you think passively and instantly regret it. You’re still thinking about him, even as your Coil is ringing with someone else on the line. Even after you’ve slept with at least a dozen women. Even after you’ve proven the kid totally right. You hate it. It’s an unshakeable ache inside of you that’s all too familiar. You sigh, Coil still ringing, your sake gone. You’re drinking so much again. You’ve never been this _fucked up_ by anyone before.  
  
Well, except for maybe--  
  
“Aoba,” you put on a smile for the blue-haired man behind the holographic screen. You finally answer, ready to escape your memories for just a bit.  
  
“Koujaku, what-- You…!”  
  
You raise an eyebrow, keeping up the facade that you’re perfectly fine rather well. You’ve done this your whole life, anyway. You did this for your mother when she sent you back to the mainland, you did this for Ryuuhou as he destroyed you and your innocence, you did this for all of Midorijima once you came back to the island. You’ve done this. And you will continue until the day you die. Besides, being torn up about your lover leaving was a lot less severe than the other things. Surely it would be over soon, you tell yourself.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Come over. We need to talk. I can’t believe that you went _this_ long without telling me that--”  
  
“I know. I’d rather not think about it,” you grumble. Aoba finally caught on, you realize. “And you’ve been busy with Ren--”  
  
You’re hit with a fresh wave of pain. This one a different source, but really not too different at all. Maybe Aoba and Ren was a wound that would never heal for you, but you’d be okay with that too. You’ve done this. You’re doing this.   
  
“Fine. I’ll be coming over. Maybe you should warn Tae-san this time,” you smile.  
  
“You know I won’t,” he smiles back, the same smile he gave you when you were children. The line then dies, and old wounds suddenly ache along with new ones.  
  
Maybe you _should_ have called Aoba, but something had prevented you from that. Was it seeing _him_ with someone else? You don’t really know. Maybe you wanted to keep up the tough, strong best friend image you had going for so long. Maybe you’d wanted to hide the secrets from him you’d always had. That had wore on you in of itself, though. You hated lying to the one who saved your life, but you knew he would never look at you the same if you told him though. But, you have to admit that you feel a bit of a weight lifted off of your shoulders knowing he hasn’t completely forgotten you since the events at Oval Tower. Maybe it’s good you go out for a day, shake away the thoughts once more. You’re already groomed as usual to maintain the appearance your clients expect, and you walk out the door and lock it behind you.  
  
A fleeting thought reminds you that Noiz still has a key, and you find you don’t mind at all that he does.  
  
You turn back to the road and take it. Honestly, Aoba doesn’t live too far away, but you feel awkward intruding now that he and Ren are together. They’re sweet, honestly. You can’t fight it. But you feel an unsettling pang of jealousy every time you see them together. It makes the tattoos on your back itch it affects you so much, and you know it’s better for everyone if you just stay away. You know you can’t handle hurting Aoba or Ren or Tae-san, so you’ve distanced yourself a little bit. Noiz made that easier though. You sigh.  
  
As you turn a corner you notice a vaguely familiar series of flashing lights down what appears to be an alley. You roll your eyes, realizing that you are witnessing the opening of a Rhyme field. You hated Rhyme before you got tangled up with that little shithead, and now it left an even more bitter taste in your mouth. You’ve walked this road a thousand times, and you knew occasionally there were games here. Maybe that was what had really kept you away.  
  
You continue walking and you hear what you think could be altercation. As your hand slinks to the sword on your back. Something insides you screams at you to help, but you quickly realize you’re wrong about your assumption. You hear subtle grunts and sighs, your face quickly growing warm as you realize what is surely happening out of sight, and you walk a bit faster for your own peace of mind.  
  
You’re trying to make your getaway, sounds still audible as you pass, but before you can a certain voice makes you freeze in your tracks. It feels as if your insides have frozen over as you turn, expecting to see a certain blonde beside you. But he’s not there. He’s down that alley in the dark _fucking some asshole_ , and you know all of his groans far too well to talk yourself out of it.   
  
Noiz didn’t care.  
  
You couldn’t blame him, though. After all, you were doing the same thing.  
  
With icicles settling over your heart, you stride on. He isn’t yours to fight for anymore, and you’re heading back to a battle you’ve already lost once before. Either way, you knock on the door, force a smile and it’s obvious you’re shaken. Ren answers. Your stomach churns. You want to crumble into nonexistence, but you can’t. You want to rip the sword off of your back and shove it into your chest, make the hole there a reality. But you can’t. You want to feel better. _You want to feel better._  
  
You want to be _happy._  
  
But you can’t.  
  
“Hello, Ren. Have you been taking care of Aoba?” You smile. You always fucking smile. You want to let him know it’s fake. You want to let _them_ know.   
  
But you can’t.  
  


 

**VI. And the sixth, is when you admit, you may have fucked up a little.**

You wake up on concrete feeling like shit.

  
No one is there, but Usagi is freaking the hell out and letting you know that you’re too cold.  It’s dumb, but you suddenly long for your hat. You’d thrown that piece of shit away, but it had kept you warm when you’d experienced this other times. Maybe it was really just a safety blanket. Whatever, it helped. You feel an unpleasant stiffness in your back and something stuck between your thighs, which ushers in an unsettling wave of self-loathing. You stand, brush off your jeans, and begin walking your way out of the alley. You don’t really remember much, maybe you’d been drugged? Stranger things had happened, but you found that you were so empty you weren’t even mad. It was kind of nice to forget it all.  
  
Forget what again?  
  
Oh. Right.   
  
And just like that, you feel something split inside of you. You grip your chest, and Usagi is alarmed beyond comprehension. You explain that you feel fine, you just _hurt_ , and it’s such a strange thing to say that it surprises you. You miss him. You’ve never missed anyone, and you suddenly hate how you feel. You want him there. You know he would have held you, whether you had opened up or not. You’d have done the same for him and you had a thousand times. You feel your body shaking, you don’t know if you’re shivering or having convulsions or both. You know enough about medicine and the human body to know that throwing yourself into an anxiety attack after being passed out in the cold for hours was enough to kill someone like you. You might have even sustained injuries that you’re not even aware of. You get yourself up, you try to stand, you take it step by step.   
  
You don’t know which way you’re going. You can’t focus on much. Something is blurring your vision and you don’t know if you’re about to pass out cold again or if you’re crying, but either way you rub at your eyes and press onward. A familiar staircase opens up in front of you. You had walked your way to his apartment, and with a heavy sigh you collapse on the wooden steps. You think you should be happy. You _understand_ what it’s like to miss someone and what it’s like to have your heart ache. This is good. You feel something! But it fucking _sucks_ and you curl in on yourself, choking out sobs and shivering in the process. You feel disgusting. You did this to yourself.  
  
You think back to the night it all happened.  
  
You hadn’t fought in a while which is what made it so weird.  
  
Though you two had the tendency to pick at each other, which surely wasn’t the best way to go about starting a relationship, you never really went after each other anymore. But you had a jealous streak, and Koujaku loved attention. You bite your lip, remembering it so well. He had all those fucking _girls_ , and you couldn’t get over how it felt to be inadequate. You called him out on it. Of course you did. Of course you had to. You just fucking had to.  
  
But he thought it was a game. He thought you were just poking a joke, like calling him old or dumb like you did. He didn’t know you honestly _felt this way_ , so you fucking hit him. Right in the stomach. The way you used to. The way fights used to be before feelings developed. When you were both just angry people who stumbled together and somehow developed chemistry.   
  
Anyway, he pulled your hair. Punched you back. You deserved it, honestly. Maybe you said that aloud, and nothing made him more mad than your self depreciation. Koujaku had a fucking temper. Maybe he’d lost control a bit. You knew he had some kind of… _other side_ that came out occasionally. Something that made those red irises glow a bit brighter. You weren’t so certain. You were fuming yourself. But he was stronger, you were just more _brutal_ , and took advantage of your size and picked you up by the collar. You couldn’t see any wounds on him but you think he saw some on you because he immediately put you down, something pained in his expression, and you were immediately struck with confusion.   
  
You felt unwanted after that.  
  
“Maybe _I’ll just go_ ,” you snapped as your feet hit the floor, and you said it intending for him to fight for you. For him to stop you. But at this point, you could see something inside of him. Something that you should have known by then.   
  
“Maybe it’s better if you do,” he said. His voice was laden with a level of finality that reminded you of the way your parents used to speak. You were shocked for a moment, but you realized then you couldn’t back down. You realized then that you couldn’t go back. It didn’t matter though, you’d left a home once before, after all.  
  
As your reverie ended so did your tears, and you were instantly struck by exhaustion, much like a child throwing a temper tantrum and crying themselves to sleep. You think that’s a good analogy. Except generally children weren’t left outside in the cold. They were locked inside rooms, away from the world.  
  
The wood should have felt cold, just like the air around you, but it didn’t and you were once thankful for your condition. You shrugged it off. You could and you would sleep there if you had to. Maybe you’d freeze to death by morning. You found that you didn’t mind much. After all, you couldn’t identify sadness, the feeling of guilt, in your lovers eyes. What kind of person could you be? You would never learn.  
  
Your eyes slip close and you’re just on the edge of consciousness when you feel rather than see someone walking towards you. At first, you think it’s the Rhymer that took advantage of you, or that you allowed to take advantage of you, or whatever from earlier. But then you note the silhouette and it’s so familiar you can’t find air for a moment. He kneels down beside you, and you honestly expect him to kick you in the face or something. He doesn’t look very happy, but he doesn’t look angry either, and you clear your throat to speak.  
  
“I-I’m lost,” you croak. God. What the fuck happened to you?  
  
He chuckles, and it’s a bit more bitter than you’re used to. It’s still so pleasant though, you hadn’t seen him in so long, and you feel your eyes well up with tears once more.   
  
“I-I’m sorry, K-Koujaku. I fucked u-up,” you swallow. He quickly shushes you though, and slings you over his shoulder. He’s bringing you up the stairs, and you don’t really know what warmth is but you know he has it. He feels like warmth to you. He’s your warmth.  
  
You don’t really deserve the warmth though, you think, but you’re met with a pair of sad crimson eyes. Where did that bitterness go? You suddenly realize that maybe you’ve been analyzing the whole situation wrong. Maybe this wasn’t about you, or your mistakes. Maybe you’re not responsible. Maybe you’ve been avoiding this for no reason, and you could have been here the whole damn--  
  
“No, Noiz. I’m sorry. I…”  
  
“S-S-Save it, old man,” you say, fully appreciating the way the tattoo on his face was barely visible. Maybe _that’s_ what it was about. Maybe that’s why he had looked so sad as he sat you back down on his hardwood floor. You suddenly feel really stupid, but you’re mostly just tired, and you soon fall into a very familiar bed. You’ve missed it a lot. You’ve missed Koujaku a lot. You’ve never known a home like this one.  
  
“Sleep it off, brat,” he mutters from beside you, and you give him a weak smile.  
  


They could talk about it in the morning, you decide, and you press yourself against his body just to create the illusion of feeling it there. Yeah, you may have fucked up a little. But if fucking up had got you where you were, you decide that ultimately, it was worth it in the end. You’d probably do it over again too, if you had to.  
  
It’s like you were never gone at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I HAD TO GIVE IT A HAPPY ENDING I'M SO SORRYYYY  
> also noiz comes so much easier for me than koujaku damn


End file.
